


dear mother

by goldenthunderstorms



Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, based on a gc convo, just give me more fics about montys relationship with his mom, monty healing, parents can be emotionally abusive without being physically abusive thanks, percy is so good to monty, so headcanons, we didnt work it in but her name is eleanor, we just really wanted to know more about montys mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 08:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20904839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenthunderstorms/pseuds/goldenthunderstorms
Summary: Monty writes a different letter.





	dear mother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Purpleologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleologist/gifts).

> so this fic was inspired by this loooong convo in my gents guide group chat on instagram where we got into monty and his moms (who we named eleanor) relationship and then someone suggested the letter idea and thus here we are  
i hope you enjoy

_ Dear Mother, _

_ I’m sorry for _

I stare at the letter, five words stare back at me. Five words that feel like the hardest I’ve ever had to write.

I have a lot of words I want to say to my mother, yet there aren’t enough words for what I want to say. I don’t even know what all of the words are.

I wrote my letter to my father earlier today. There were very few words I wanted to say to him other than to give him the verbal equivalent of my middle finger. If I never contact him again, it will be too soon.

But my mother, my mother is different.

When I was very young, I felt that there were two people I could always count on to be in my corner: my mother and Percy.

One of my earliest memories is with my mother. There was this swing in our gardens she liked to sit in, especially when pregnant with Felicity. I would crawl up into her lap and lay my head on her stomach.

“I hope it’s a boy,” I said.

My mother laughed. “You want a little brother?”

I nodded. “Someone to play with me and Percy.”

Mother ran her fingers through my hair. “Well, dear, I can’t make any promises. Perhaps it will be a girl. Then, you’ll protect her like a gentleman.”

“Mhm,” I nodded again, though the thought of a sister didn’t enthuse me as much.

Mother kissed the top of my head. “I’ll still love you, dear. Even when the new baby comes.”

“Good,” I replied.

Mother laughed again.

“Can I still sleep in your bed?” I asked. Before the mess at Eton, my father wasn’t often home. Growing up, I spent many of those nights with my mother, curled up at her side. Though I would never admit to it, I did this almost up until I left for Eton.

“Of course, darling,” she replied.

That evening, I broke a glass in the kitchen and Father smacked me so hard I hit the ground. Of course, that’s expected for a three-year-old.

Mother came to my room and sang me to sleep, telling me that I would be alright.

I miss those days with my mother.

As I grew up, she was my secret ally. She would hug me and kiss away my tears after my father was angry. She would say that everyone makes mistakes and that I would be strong. (She never spoke ill of my father. I think they loved each other, somehow. Though that never helped me.)

She played games with me, Felicity, and Percy sometimes.

Things changed after Eton.

I came home, beat to all hell. I expected sympathy from my mother, support. The second day I was home, my father had to leave the estate for business reasons as he planned to stay home a lot more afterward.

I went to Mother. I wanted her to tell me I made a mistake and I would come back from it. I needed her to understand that I tried, that I didn’t choose this.

I stood at her door, my body in agony and half of my face out of commission. “Mother?”

She opened the door, looking down at me. She looked troubled. “Oh, hello, dear,” she said quietly.

“I wanted–“ I began, but she stopped me.

“Dear, I think it’s best you go back to your room. I know you made a mistake and it won’t happen again. Everyone makes bad choices sometimes and we learn important lessons from them.” She reached out for me and I flinched, so she stopped. “But, you’re a young man now. Young men face the consequences of their actions. This is a consequence and you need to face it by yourself, Henry.”

She shut the door in my half-out-of-commission face.

Things changed with my mother after that. I stopped seeking out her comfort and she stopped providing it. She didn’t look at me with a secret smile that said there was something only we two knew. She looked at me with worry, disappointment, or pity. I knew that my mistake had cost me my mother. I knew that all parents’ love had limits, and I’d broken my mother’s. I’d lost half of the people I could trust because of something I can’t control. My mother was the only person who _ knew _ what happened with my father and who could be there for me when it happened. And then there was no one.

Mother cared from a distance, arm’s length and more out of motherly obligation than anything else, made only wider when she was pregnant with The Goblin. Her absence opened a hole inside of me that I filled with drinks and partying. For a long time, I’ve been able to forget that there is that hole.

But now, knowing I will never see my mother again and that she will never love me as she did, I feel like a scared teenager looking for love from any side. I feel like I’ve lost something I can never get back.

It’s like opening an old wound. A wound that felt long-healed and you’ve almost forgotten about. But then you move a certain way that rips it wide open and all the pain comes rushing back, sudden and tenfold.

I look down at the letter again, now with tear spots on it. I realize that I’m crying, my breath coming out in small sobs. I try to keep quiet. It’s the middle of the night. I didn’t want anyone else around while I wrote _ this _ letter for this exact reason. I set the quill back in the ink pot, covering my mouth with my hand.

Then there are hands on my shoulders and a kiss pressed to the top of my head.

“Hey, darling,” Percy says quietly, into my good ear. 

I try to collect myself. “Did I wake you?” I ask, sniffling. It feels like I cry and get upset over little, stupid things since we’ve settled from our adventures. I cry way more than I ever have.

“That doesn’t matter. What’s upsetting you?”

“Nothing of importance,” I say. I want to turn and kiss him, but then he’d see my tear-streaked face. “Why don’t you go back to bed, darling?”

“Surely it’s important if you’re crying, Monty,” Percy says. He’s not going to lay off.

“It’s just . . .” I begin, sighing as I take his hand in mine. “It’s a letter to my mother,” I admit quietly.

“Your mother?”

I nod.

Percy leans over my shoulder to read it, then gives my other shoulder a soft squeeze. “What are you wanting to say?”

I don’t have an answer. I don’t know.

“You haven’t spoken of your mother in a long time.”

“She hasn’t even thought of me in a long time.”

Percy tugs on my hand and pulls me to my feet, then guides me to sit on the bed with him. 

“After Eton...” I say. I used to think I could divide my life into two halves: Before and After Eton. I would even refer to those periods in my life as the Before and After with Percy. So that’s all I have to say.

Percy nods.

“Mother was there for me, Before. But After, she stopped being there. She stopped caring when my father acted like he did and...”

Percy, still holding my hand, squeezes it. With his free hand, he reaches up to wipe my tears away.

I sigh. “It’s like she lost hope for me. Even when Richard Peele happened, she said I had just made a mistake and she loved me. She said it would be fine. Mother had faith in me, and then she didn’t. I ruined it. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t, that I had done better.”

“You’re saying that your mother stopped loving you because you like boys?”

I weigh this before nodding. “I suppose so. Things would be a lot easier if I weren’t like this. And maybe I could have kept my mother.”

Percy watches me for a moment like he’s weighing his own thoughts. “Monty.” He kisses my knuckles. “I don’t know why we are the way we are. But it isn’t something we can help, and it isn’t something we should be ashamed of. We can try to ignore it, but you just end up suffocating.” He leans over to kiss my cheek. “There’s nothing for you to fix or be sorry for.”

——

I return to the letter a few days later. Percy is playing his violin and I listen, even though I don’t typically enjoy music. Percy’s is more than tolerable.

I sit down and stare at those five words.

_ Dear Mother, _

_ I’m sorry for _

Now, they seem less daunting.

I look out the small window of the flat at the cliffs and the sea beyond. I listen to Percy playing the violin. I turn to watch him do so. I look at the great love of my life as he scrunches his face in focus and slides his fingers over strings.

I turn back to my letter, knowing how to finish.

_ Dear Mother, _

_ I’m sorry for skipping out on you as I have. Pirates can be quite inconvenient. _

_ I’m sorry that I didn’t turn out how you wanted. I’m sorry you didn’t get the son that you wanted. Perhaps the Goblin will fill my duties for me. _

_ But I am happy with how I’ve turned out. I don’t think I’ve made nearly as many mistakes as you and Father want me to believe. _

_ You loved me once. But then you stopped because of who I loved. But now someone else loves me: a boy with a fiddle who thinks I’m wonderful and doesn’t shut doors in my face. _

_ I won’t come back to your door and beg for forgiveness. I am more than my mistakes. I will admit that I’ve made many. But this, running off with the boy I love, wasn’t one. _

_ Henry Montague _

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Noblewoman's Guide to Marriage and Marauding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23012632) by [flightofthelunamoths](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightofthelunamoths/pseuds/flightofthelunamoths)


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